Ruger Takes Over

Published February 2025

Hi, I'm Ruger. The Old Guy asked me to write the column for him this week. He said his fingers were aching from the cold and it hurt to type. It has something or other to do with some fellow named Arthur Ritis.

I guess I need to tell about myself. Let's see – I will be sixteen months old this week and I've been told that I weigh one hundred and five pounds. I hear people say I am a German Shepherd dog. I live in this big old house with the Old Guy who doesn't like to be called the Old Guy. I don't care – that's what he is. Besides him, there is Brendan who says he is not really really a dog person, but he likes to scratch me between the ears when he thinks nobody is looking, I like to be scratched there, it feels good. I especially like it when the Old Guy rubs my belly until it tickles and my leg wiggles!

Then, there is Felix the cat. He thinks he is boss of the house, and I think, just maybe, he is. Everybody here does what he wants. Because he just won't shut up until he gets his way. He doesn't like it when I chase him, but if I don't chase him for a while, he comes over to me and hits me on the nose, then runs away. Then I chase him. And the Old Guy yells, "Ruger! Leave the cat alone!"

Other times Felix comes over and rubs his face against mine. I just can't figure him.

Next is Baby Boo. She's a cat, too. I can't figure her out, either. I think she's just crazy. She hangs out in the living room, always sleeping on a chair or the couch. If I get near her, she spits and snarls at me. Sometimes she hits me with her paw, then runs away. And, when she does that, I just have to chase her. Then, either the Old Guy or Brendan yells at me,"Ruger! Leave the cat alone!" Later, when I lie down on the living room floor, she will cuddle up to my back and sleep. Like I said earlier, she's crazy.

Finally, there's Penny. She's a cat, too. She's my buddy. She is usually near me when I'm in the house and likes to sleep near me. Like when I'm lying on the floor, she will sleep close to me on a chair. And she likes to rub my face with her face and make this funny chirping sound that means she likes me. I never chase her because she doesn't run away.

My favorite thing this winter is to go out back, play in the snow and say, "Hi," to all my friends in the neighborhood. There's a big white puppy a couple of houses away who is kind of quiet. Then there are two big guys in the next block who always answer me. And finally, there is the old fellow who lives a couple of blocks away who tells me the news. And, almost every time we are talking, the Old Guy comes to the porch and yells, "Ruger! Stop Barking!" How rude! I don't interrupt him when he is talking with his friends. A little courtesy would be appreciated here.

When the Old Guy and Brendan eat their dinner, Baby Boo acts real cute, pawing their legs and meowing. This little act gets her some little pieces of meat from Brendan. But I just sit beside the Old Guy, all nice and quiet, not bothering anyone. Then comes the best part of my day when they finish dinner. The Old Guy scrapes all their left-overs onto a plate, puts it onto the kitchen floor and then yells, "Ruger! Clean-up in aisle seven!"

Then I know what he means when he says, "Life is good."

At The End of The Line

with

Ruger

From time to time, for whatever reason, I need to take a week off from writing my column. When that happens, I invite someone else to write it for me. On this instance, my column was taken over by the huge German Shepherd who shares my home with me. And so, on this date, the column was renamed for him. Here it is -